


Right Here

by purplebass



Category: Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy - Cassandra Clare, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebass/pseuds/purplebass
Summary: He sat on the wooden bench in front of the lake. He didn’t know the time, but it was probably four in the morning. He fled from his house several hours before, unable to stay any longer after keeping a straight face and thanking all of those who came to express their condolences. Still dressed in white, the color of mourning, he went to the park to try to hang in there.TW: mention of death but not of one of the major characters.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs & Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79
Collections: Thomastair





	Right Here

When the Carstairs decided to move to London for good, Alastair dreaded it.  
Truth be told, he liked London, despite its humid hair and foggy sky. He felt alive when he strolled through the main streets filled with pedestrians who were lost in their daily thoughts. He liked to observe the people who went to Regent’s Park. Many of them offered food to the ducks next to the lake, while some others opened tartan blankets on the grass and sat down to have a picnic or to read. He never did either of those things, he just stared at other’s people’s lives for once. His life had been a whirlwind of journeys to different places, but never a stable home. At some point, he became a citizen of the world, but he wanted to belong somewhere. He thought he belonged in London.

He sat on the wooden bench in front of the lake. He didn’t know the time, but it was probably four in the morning. He fled from his house several hours before, unable to stay any longer after keeping a straight face and thanking all of those who came to express their condolences. Still dressed in white, the color of mourning, he went to the park to try to hang in there.

There were no birds at night. No animals, nothing. Even people rarely stepped outside in the dark, unless they were predators or thieves. Or shadowhunters who patrolled the streets to look for demons. He had never taken patrol seriously. He loved to fight, but he had been interested in politics more. He believed politics to be more practical, more helpful. Sure, fighting demons was the mission of their life to some extent, but he thought that there was more than that. He wanted to change the world. He wanted to fight for equal rights, for the respect of basic human rights. He knew how people looked at him. How they didn’t see Alastair Carstairs but a man who didn’t fit their standards.

And he was done with that. He had the push to actively want to change the harshness and stereotyped reality of the Clave right after they had done nothing to prevent his mother’s death. How Cordelia had begged them to intercede, how her friends had also tried to do something to prevent another woman’s sacrifice. Their efforts went in vain, and it was because of the Clave.

Now, as he watched the light of the moon shine on the dark lake, he thought that things had to change. They couldn’t stay the same.

“Alastair _eshgham_.”

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard his voice coming from the stillness of the night, nor the warm hand he had placed on his shoulder.

Alastair averted his eyes from the lake and gazed up at Thomas. “You’re so tall you covered the moon with your head, Lightwood.”

He couldn’t see Thomas’ expression clearly despite he had drawn a vision rune before getting there, but he knew he was probably grinning. Despite everything he had been through, he could still smile. Thomas sat on the vacant side of the bench and sighed, hunching his body towards the ground. Now the moon was making his head glow as if somebody had sprinkled a little bit of fairy powder over there. He couldn’t help himself and he extended his arm without thinking, placed it on the nape of Thomas’ neck, right where his hairline ended. Thomas turned his head to glance at him.

“Only you can be sarcastic in the dead of the night,” he commented with a soft tone. Alastair noticed that was the voice he used whenever he wanted to tell you something serious. “How are you really doing, Alastair?”

Alastair, who had started playing with Thomas’ hair, stopped for a second once he heard the question. How was he doing? “Do you want the truth, Thomas?”

“I always wish the truth from you,” Thomas replied, and he knew he referred to their past.

“Murderous,” he admitted.

He heard Thomas laugh softly, a genuine laugh. The laugh of a person who still wanted to give so much love to the world and to him. He still couldn’t believe it.

“I thought so.”

Alastair glanced back to the lake. Whenever he was young, he rarely came to Regent’s Park because nobody would take him. Yet, when they went there because Elias had had some things to do in town, his mother Sona agreed to take him and Cordelia. She had even bought them a treat once, which was so unlike her. Sona didn’t like sweets very much, because she hadn’t eaten much when she was young. He wished it would be daylight to buy a piece of cake from one of those shops around there. He wished –

“How am I supposed to go on? What did you do when…”

Alastair’s question broke the hushed silence of the scene. His hand fell from Thomas’ neck to his arm. It was as if he was gripping onto dear life and there was a hole under his feet, Thomas his only anchor to this world. He didn’t know if he wanted an answer, a real one, or he just wanted to be told the usual things you say in these occasions. The things no one believes are true, yet they still grip on those words to try to go on.

Thomas clasped his hand in his. “I kept myself busy, Alastair. I didn’t want to think about Barbara, but she kept crossing my mind. I can’t forget about her, and I won’t, but she’s dead. She can’t come back to this world. I can only honor her memory and fight for her.”

“She will be avenged,” Alastair agreed.

“Yes, someday, I know she will. But in the meantime, Alastair… we are still here. We still live. I’m in no place to tell you how to face this new situation, but I think your mother would want you to fight.”

He nodded. “Most likely. She always said I had a fighting attitude and that I’ll be killed before I turn twenty-five because of it.”

Thomas laughed again. “She knew you well. Have you thought what to do with your sister?”

“Cordelia says she wants to take care of her, but I don’t know. She just got married. I don’t want to burden her with such a task.”

“Then let’s take care of her together. This is my proposal.”

“What?”

“You heard me well, Alastair.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No. Are you? Wait, don’t answer.”

And he didn’t. Instead, he pulled Thomas towards him and he kissed him. It wasn’t like the other times, when they had kissed in the dark in the most different places so nobody would catch them. Their other kisses were desperate, passionate, while this one was slow and sweet. Alastair wasn’t a mellifluous type, but he thought Thomas deserved a gentle kiss, because he didn’t know many ways to show him that he was grateful to have him by his side. Eternally grateful.

“Was that a yes?” Thomas inquired with anticipation.

“What do you think, Lightwood?”

“Are we back on a last-name basis?”

Alastair shrugged and managed a grin. It was the first smile he could muster on that day. “Of course not.”

“Which question were you replying to?” he wondered, but he already knew the answer.

“ _Âsheghetam_ , Thomas.”

Thomas couldn’t help but kiss him again, and in that moment, Alastair felt giddy and relieved. He wouldn’t forget about his mother. He would surely avenge her. It hurt like hell that she had died, but at the same time, thanks to Thomas’ support, he would be more determined to fight for her and he would get her the justice she deserves. And that was what mattered.

**Footnote** : _Eshgham_ means “ _my love_ ”, while “ _Âsheghetam_ “ means “ _I love you_ ”.


End file.
